Caring for the Queef Abused
by Tikal Tyrant
Summary: When Butters becomes ill after being queefed on by a girl at school, Kenny is the only one who can take care of him. Takes place during the episode Eat, Pray, Queef. Bunny fluff one-shot!


A/N: Eat, Pray, Queef came on T.V. the other day and inspired me to write this. Honestly, I've had this idea for a while, but now I've finally moved it from my brain to a form where it can be read. Before reading, please note the scene in the episode where all the men are at the House of Representatives. Each boy is in a seat beside their own father, but Kenny's father is in a seat next to an empty chair. Later, Butters' dad takes the seat, but it seems to not make much sense for Kenny to not be there with his dad while all the other boys are. Thus, the inspiration for this story. This is what I imagine Kenny was doing while all that was going on. So with that in mind, please enjoy...

**Caring for the Queef Abused:**

"On television us children are starting to see and hear more and more graphic queefing," Stan said as Kyle typed the words out on his computer.

"Yeah, that sounds good," Kyle said, his fingers darting across the keyboard. He stopped and leaned back in his chair. "We have to think of who's gonna read what parts."

"I can prepare the audience with one of my f-fantastic jokes," Jimmy suggested.

"I dunno," Stan said, flipping through loose sheets of notes. "We really don't want this matter to be taken lightly."

"(I'll read the beginning,)" Kenny offered.

"No Kenny. You can't read anything because you're poor and nobody is going to care what a poor kid thinks," Cartman explained. "It should be somebody the audience can relate to. A person with charisma and yet with the simple charm of a sweet, innocent little boy. I guess we really have no choice. I'll read the opening speech."

"Stan's reading the opening," Kyle stated.

"Meeeeh," he whined.

"Hey," Craig spoke up, "we should mention how this is affecting girls' behavior in real life."

"Yeah," Token agreed. "We should tell Butters' story."

Cartman nodded at the idea. "Yeah. About how that girl queefed right in his face. Kyle."

"What?"

"Grab your camera. We're going to Butters' house."

"(What are we gonna do?)" Kenny asked.

Kyle rummaged through his desk and pulled out his digital camera as Cartman said, while fanning his hands apart to show an invisible banner, "Butters is going to be the Face of Queef Abuse."

"What?" Kyle said, a little weary about the idea.

"We'll take his picture and hang it above us at the House of Representatives. Everyone will see how terrible queefs really are and how they're ruining children's lives," Cartman explained with passion.

Stan nodded sternly. "It's a good idea."

With that, the seven boys were off to Butters' house. It was easy to get his father to agree to using his image seeing as how he was also going to be speaking against queefs. They were granted access to the boy's room, and while it was an upsetting sight to see Butters in so much anguish, they all agreed this would make him an even more effective poster child. Butters understood the importance, easily allowing them to do what they needed. Anything to put an end to the horror. Luckily, with what they now had to present, their prospect of a queef-free America was looking pretty promising; however, as they descended the stairs, the boys found Butters' father to be in some distress.

"How can you be so against this?" he said into the phone as he paced about the living room. "I have to go, and you know I can't leave Butters alone in his condition. Yes it is! It's very serious. He-hello? Linda?" Stephen hung up and sunk onto the couch, letting the phone dangle loosely in his hands between his legs as he hung his head in defeat.

"What's the matter, Mr. Stotch?" Stan asked.

"Oh, boys. My wife just doesn't understand the seriousness of queef abuse. I can't leave Butters alone as sick as he is, but she doesn't believe his condition is that bad."

"Oh no," Kyle said to the other boys. "Our dads might not be enough. We need as many men as we can get. What are we gonna do?"

"Can we take Butters with us?" Craig asked.

"No, butt-munch. He's bedridden. That means he can't go anywhere," Stan explained. Of course, it wouldn't be until much later when they would realize he was bedridden with merely a psychosomatically induced sickness.

The room filled with anguish. Nobody knew what to do about the situation.

"All the men are going, and no female is going to be willing to help out," Kyle groaned. "We don't have time for this. We need to finish preparing and get going now."

Just then, Kenny had an epiphany. "(I'll stay.)"

Stephen looked to the hooded boy. "You... You'll stay?"

"(Sure. I can stay and watch Butters.)"

"Are you sure you don't want to help fight?" Stan asked.

"(Cartman won't let me do anything anyhow,)" Kenny replied with a furrowed brow. "(This way at least I'll be doing something.)"

Stephen fell on his knees and gripped Kenny's shoulders and spoke with an extreme gratitude that played a harsh contrast to his previous sorrow. "Thank you, son. God bless you. Come on boys." He stood up and rushed to the door, the other six boys following behind. "We don't have much time."

In a parade of new found hope, they were gone, leaving Kenny alone in the big, empty house. It was much nicer and cleaner than his own, which made him feel a bit awkward about moving around too much. He decided to go upstairs to inform Butters of what was going on, as well as checking to see if he needed anything, though he honestly didn't expect that he'd have to do too much.

"(Hey, Butters,)" Kenny said quietly as he re-entered the other boy's bedroom. Slowly, Butters turned to him, his face looking groggy and over-heated despite the ice-pack tied to his head.

"O-oh," Butters acknowledged. "Hey Kenny. What are you still doing here?"

Kenny closed the door and walked to the side of Butters' bed. "(Everyone else had to get ready for the assembly. They were all worried about leaving you alone, so I said I'd watch after you.)"

Butters smiled weakly. "Aw shucks. That was awful nice of you. I hope I'm not causing you any trouble." He pulled himself up to a sitting position but ended up groaning as he grabbed his head and began to fall sideways.

Kenny sat on the edged of the bed and grabbed Butters' shoulders to steady him. "(It's no trouble. Are you sure you don't wanna just lie down?)"

"I'm okay. I get restless if I lie down too long." His head bobbed, and he let out a small noise of discomfort. "I am a little dizzy, though."

"(Does it hurt anywhere?)"

"Just a fever," Butters said meekly

Kenny scratched his head awkwardly. "(Do you need anything? I mean, I am supposed to be taking care of you.)"

Butters thought for a moment. "I guess I'm a little hungry."

"(You want me to cook?)" Kenny asked nervously.

"No, no. You don't have to cook or nothin'. I just meant, like a sandwich maybe. I mean, you don't have to if you don't want..."

"(That's cool,)" Kenny said, rising to his feet. "(I can make you a sandwich. What do you want on it?)"

"Just ham and cheese is fine," Butters said with a smile. "You can make one for yourself, too."

"(Alright. I'll do that, and you just lie down until I get back.)"

Butters complied, and Kenny left for the kitchen. Everything in the Stotch's kitchen was pristine and perfectly organized to an extent that made Kenny feel unwelcome, like he was sullying the ambiance just by being there. This was even more so when he opened up the refrigerator. It was nice to see such a well stocked fridge that didn't emanate the foul stench of mold, but it felt wrong to be rummaging through their food. Still, he did just that until he procured the ham and cheese. He found the bread easily enough, and quickly, he tore away from their roll two paper towels with which to lay the slices, slapping the meat and cheese on top.

It felt like no time at all to Butters when Kenny opened up the door.

"(Okay, here's the sandwiches,)" Kenny said, setting Butters' on his nightstand before pulling the computer chair up beside the bed. He took a seat and propped his feet up on the bed frame before biting into the stuffed sandwich, finding it much more enjoyable than his usual bread, bologna, and no condiment sandwiches he had, to his chagrin, become infamous for.

Butters sat up and yawned, wiping the sleep from his eye. "I guess I fell asleep." He lifted the paper towel wrapped lunch from the nightstand and sat it on his lap. "Thanks a bunch, Kenny," he said, peeling the crust from the bread and dropping it onto the paper towel. "I've actually been kinda hungry for a while, but I didn't wanna say anything, and I was too lazy to get anything for myself."

Kenny had already taken another large bite and chewed it up when he noticed what Butters was doing. "(You peel the crust off your bread?)" he asked, laughing.

Butters looked down at the pile of crust on his lap. "Y-yeah... What's wrong with that?"

"(Nothing really. It's just kind of childish is all.)"

Butters blushed. "I-it is not childish!" he defended. "Well... Lots of people peel the crust off their bread."

"(Lots of children,)" Kenny corrected smugly, taking another bite.

Butters crossed his arms and huffed. "Well I don't see why anyone would want to eat the nasty dry crusts anyhow." He picked up the sandwich and bit in. "Did you only put one slice of ham in?"

"(Yeah... Should I have put more?)" he asked hesitantly.

Butters swallowed and shrugged. "It's fine. I just usually put two on, on account of they're so thin." He took another bite, halting on his third chew. "You put mustard in it?"

Kenny groaned. "(You don't like mustard. I'm sorry.)"

Butters swallowed again and smiled "It's fine. You just kind of put a lot on it. But it's alright. Honest."

"(I'm sorry if I wasted it by using too much.)"

"It's only wasting if you don't eat it," Butters explained. "And we're eating it, so it's not a waste."

Kenny smiled. "(But you are wasting those bread crusts.)"

Butters grimaced. "That's like saying you're wasting a wrapper cause you didn't eat it."

"(No it isn't. Crusts are perfectly edible. Here, I'll eat them then.)" Kenny reached into the pile on Butters lap and snagged a crust which he quickly popped into his mouth.

"Don't eat them!" Butters exclaimed.

"(Why? They're not bad.)" Kenny grabbed another and ate it quickly.

"Stop. You don't have to do that. I can just throw them out."

"(But I don't mind the taste,)" Kenny explained. "(It isn't like I'm forcing myself.)"

Butters was going to keep arguing, but the thought crossed his mind that maybe Kenny didn't get to eat much at his own house. Maybe he wanted to eat the crumbs because he was really hungry. After all, he had heard Cartman talk about poor people like Kenny eating left-over bread crusts before.

"You don't have to eat bread crusts," Butters said sympathetically. "We have plenty of other things to eat if you want. I don't mind."

"(I'm not really that hungry,)" Kenny said, a little confused. "(I was just doing it cause it seemed to bother you.)"

"Oh...," Butters said, focusing his attention back on his food. "But... But you really can have whatever you want in the kitchen."

The two finished up their sandwiches quickly, and Kenny crumpled their paper towels together. "(I guess I'll throw these away.)" As he rose, Butters fell back against his head-board, his face growing more red. "(Are you okay?)" Kenny asked, pressing the back of his hand against the other's face. "(You're burning up.)" He felt the ice-pack. "(Your ice-pack's not so cold. I'll get some more ice. Do you want a glass of water or something?)"

Butters slid onto his back, his breath sounding labored. "Y-yes please. I'm feeling kinda wobbly."

"(I'll be right back,)" Kenny said, leaving the room. It didn't take long before he was rushing back in with a cup of ice-water in one hand and an ice-tray in the other.

"(Sit up,)" Kenny commanded as he sat the cup on the nightstand and cracked the ice in the ice-tray loose.

Butters struggled to sit up, and Kenny quickly sat on the edge of the bed to unscrew the top of the ice-pack. He dumped the ice into the pack and screwed it back before moving over to the computer chair and handing the cup to Butters. "(Here. Be careful.)"

Butters gingerly accepted the water and slowly lifted the cup to his mouth. He took a drink and immediately began coughing.

"(Are you okay?)" Kenny asked.

Butters nodded despite his hacks, and when they ceased, he wiped the spittle from his chin and said hoarsely, "I'm okay," before continuing his drinking.

Kenny placed his hand on Butters red face again. "(You're really burning up. Maybe you should take some medicine,)" he suggested, noting the bottle of NyQuil on the nightstand.

"I already took some," Butters explained. "It just hasn't kicked in yet, I guess." He lifted the cup again, but before he could reach his mouth, he lost his grip and the cup toppled, spilling water all over his pants. "Oh no!" he moaned. "I'm sorry."

"(It's fine,)" Kenny said, taking the cup and setting it aside. "(You're the one who got covered with water. I'd say that medicine's kicking in,)" he said, noting Butters' obvious drowsiness. "(Did any get on the bed?)"

Butters felt under him. "Not too much. I guess most of it got on me."

Kenny stood with the cup in hand. "(I'll get you some more. Go ahead and change pants while I'm gone.)"

"Okay," Butters agreed, sliding his legs off the side of the bed. "I'm real glad you're doin' all this for me. I hope I'm not being to much of a pest."

"(It's fine. Don't worry about it. And hey, at least that'll help your fever.)" With that, Kenny was gone, the door closed behind him.

When he returned, Kenny knocked on the door, not wanting to walk in on him while in the middle of changing, to which Butters replied with a strange, "Uh. C-come in." When he opened the door, he saw Butters slouched in the computer chair with the drawstrings of his dry pajama pants held very loosely in his grasp. "I can't... I can't tie my pants."

Kenny sighed and sat the cup down before kneeling in front of Butters and taking the drawstrings in his hands, quickly tying them in a sloppy bowknot. "(I think you should probably lie down in bed. Maybe sleep for a while.)"

Butters let out a small whine. "I wanna sleep here. It's seems more official."

"(Um... I think beds make more sense for sleeping,)" Kenny said.

"Will my bed even work right now?" Butters asked absent-mindedly.

"(I'll help you,)" he said, ignoring the bizarre question and grabbing Butters under the arms. With a bit of effort, he managed to pull him up from the chair.

"But all my stuff's over there," Butters whined. "Who's gonna watch my stuff?"

Kenny let Butters fall back on the bed, then lifted his legs and straightened him out. He rose up straight and wiped his brow. "(Okay, Butters, you're starting to freak me out. I think your brain might be boiling. You should take some more NyQuil.)"

"I already took some," Butters said.

Kenny was already in the process of pouring the thick syrup into the tiny measuring cup. "(Well take some more. Just sit up long enough to drink this, okay.)"

Butters pouted as he pulled himself into a reclined position. Kenny handed him the tiny cup and he quickly threw back the shot. When he finished, Kenny took it and Butters slammed his eyes shut, groping at the air in front of him. Kenny thought for a moment before picking up the cup of water and putting it in Butters' grasp. Instantly, he turned back the cup, chugging half its contents before handing it back and sliding down in his bed until he was lying perfectly recumbent, eyes closed and mouth open with tiny breaths wafting in and out.

It seemed like no time before he was completely out, and not much longer than that until his fever seemed to go down. His face wasn't nearly as flushed, and he was much cooler to the touch. Deciding it would be best to let the boy sleep, Kenny killed time by messing around on Butters' computer, spinning in his chair, watching a little T.V. downstairs, and partaking of just a teeny-tiny amount of snacks from the kitchen. Not having much else to do, Kenny was relaxing on the couch watching T.V. when he heard the foot-steps on the stairs. He turned to see a groggy Butters descending the stairs with a tight grip on the railing and loosely tied pants sliding down and threatening to trip him or fall off.

"(How are you feeling?)" Kenny asked.

Butters made his way to the couch and flopped down beside the other boy. "I'm feeling better. Still sleepy, but I think my fever's gone cause I'm a little cold now." He smiled warmly. "Thank you for taking care of me."

"(No problem.)"

"I mean it," Butters said. "It was really nice of you. I know I must have been a burden."

"(Not really. Besides, it couldn't have been as much trouble as I was during my whole cat-piss thing,)" Kenny said, despite his embarrassment. "(I kinda owed you for that.)" He put his hand on top of the ice-pack and pressed it down against his head.

Butters giggled. "Aw, that's no problem, Ken." He shivered and lifted his legs onto the couch.

"(Are you cold?)"

"Yeah. A little. Can you hand me that blanket behind you?"

Kenny leaned forward, having not realized he had been sitting against a blanket. He pulled it forward and laid it across Butters' lap. Butters took it and shook it open, laying it over the two of them.

"There. Now we can both use it," Butters said. Even after covering up, he was still shaking, and Kenny was beginning to become concerned.

"(Do I need to turn the heat up? You're shaking a lot.)"

"I don't know," Butters said. "I'm not really all that cold. I just can't seem to stop."

Kenny moved closer to the other boy and wrapped his arms around him. "(I'll hold you still,)" he said, more as a joke than anything, but when Butters continued to shake, he gripped tighter in a real attempt to get the boy to settle down.

"I don't think that's working," Butters stated. Kenny gripped harder, trying to determine what places the shakes were originating from. "Th-that kinda hurts, Kenny." Kenny ignored the words, cramming Butters' face into his shoulder. "I can't breathe."

Finally, Kenny released the shaking boy. "(Dammit, I can't get you to stop shaking.)"

"That's okay. It doesn't hurt or nothin'," Butters said. "But, um," he started a little awkwardly, "you probably shouldn't have done that. On account of I got... Got queefed on." He dropped his head in his embarrassment.

"(I don't care,)" Kenny said. "(I mean, yeah, it's gross, but I'm taking care of you, so I just have to suck it up.)" Really, he couldn't imagine it was anywhere near as bad as he was during his cheesing addiction, but he kept that thought to himself.

Butters peeked up, abashed as he said, "Ah gee. I don't know what to say." Again, he jerked with shivers.

"(Are you sure you're not just cold? Cause then all I'd have to do is warm you up.)"

"I suppose it could be. It's hard to tell when you're sick sometimes."

Kenny wrapped his arms around Butters again, this time very gently, and pulled him close against him. Kenny lifted his legs onto the couch and lied sideways, keeping Butters' back against his chest as he cocooned them both in the blanket. "(Is that better?)"

"I dunno," Butters said, nestling against him, his head laying on Kenny's arm. "It's warmer. And nice," he said with a yawn.

Kenny wrapped his other arm tight across Butters' chest. "(You can sleep there if you want. I'll keep you warm.)"

"But what if I get another fever?" Butters asked.

"(Then we can just throw more water on you. But then you might get cold again. In which case,)" Kenny said, lightly pecking his lips on the back of Butters' head, "(I can warm you up again.)"

Butters blushed a bit. "I'm fine with that. I-if it's not too much trouble."

Kenny closed his eyes and smiled. "(It's no trouble at all.)"


End file.
